What It's Like Now
by LitChic
Summary: Eli's become somewhat of a recluse during his time away from the halls of Degrassi. Returning from his suspension seems a daunting task. But returning also has its perks. Like for instance, a certain Miss Edwards.
1. I Hate Khaki

I hated khaki. Never, before this day, had I been graced with the displeasure of wearing the dull, tan color. I glanced down at my pants one more time and sighed. This was ridiculous.

I realized that my anger was slightly inappropriate, considering it was partially my fault that the school had turned into a prison ward. But only partially. And at any rate, I couldn't see how khaki pants and color-coded polo shirts would stop people from trying to stab me. Again. I guess that's not exactly the right way to phrase it. Fitz's intentions were never to actually stab me. Just humiliate me in front of _her. _To make me beg. The events of Vegas Night had been burned into my memory, like a headache that wouldn't go away. The kind that gets worse when you remember its there.

The flashback started involuntarily. The way Fitz approached me, knife in hand. The way _she _looked so scared. So scared for me. Truth is, I was scared too.

But I didn't want to be scared. I wanted to seem like I had the situation under control. I'd never been even relatively scared of death-in fact, I had pined for it on multiple occasions-but the truth is that when I had finally stared death in the face, I was scared shitless. I caved, admitted weakness, admitted I'd screwed up.

My thoughts reflexively drifted to _her. _I couldn't make her watch that. I didn't want her to see me _die_. She didn't deserve that. She did everything in her power to stop it from going too far, and so I swallowed my pride and begged for my life. His plan had worked, and I hated that. I hated _him_ for that.

But now he was in jail, expelled indefinitely, and I was marching back to the scene of the crime. Leaving my security, my sanity and my beloved Morty sitting in the school parking lot.

The only light at the end of the public school tunnel was _her._ I'd get to see _her. _That made the khaki worth it-I glanced down-sort of.

She'd been at her grandma's house during the two week break from school where I had no idea how to contact her. And this past week, I lost my nerve. I had wanted to call her. God, I had wanted to call her, but how was I supposed to start that conversation? I didn't know if we were still a thing. In fact, I was only about seventy percent sure we were even friends now. She had every right to be pissed, but was she? I didn't know, and I wouldn't know until I talked to her. Face to face.

* * *

"Eli! My man!" A voice said from behind as I climbed the steps of Degrassi toward the newly installed metal detectors.

"Adam!" I turned around. I'd been IM-ing Adam during the break, but I hadn't seen him in person since that fateful night. We walked up the steps together, waiting in line. Countless dirty looks were shot back my way from ahead in the line.

"So I guess everyone's heard that my little knife fight was part of the reason for all the changes."

"Yeah. Sorry, bud. Don't let it get to you. You know teenagers, they just need someone to blame."

"No big. People can think what they want, and it _was_ my stupid pride that caused some of this. I can't deny that much." The conversation drifted off to small talk as we slowly made our way to the doors of the school. A man with a badge tugged my bag away and sifted through it as I walked through the metal detector. When the alarm didn't sound, I was given my apparently weapon-free bag and was able to walk into Degrassi.

Adam headed for his locker and I headed hesitantly for _hers_. The anxiety got heavier with each step of my combat boots(which were now partially hidden behind the baggy legs of my khaki pants. Did I mention how much I hate khaki?). The dirty looks continued. I even caught a "Thanks a lot, emo boy!" to which I offered no response. I couldn't bring myself to. I marched on. And on. And on. _Has her locker always been this far away? _

Eventually I rounded a corner to see those sandy ginger curls I'd been awaiting for three weeks. My breath caught in my throat. She turned me into a sap, one of the cheesy, hopelessly romantic leads she reads about in those Fortnight books. I hated it. I loved it.

She hadn't turned around and I forced my legs-which somehow now weighed one hundred pounds each-to walk toward her.

When I finally got right behind her, I froze. I tried to say hello, but all the came out was a short breath. She whirled around.

"Uh…" I still couldn't speak. This was not me. I'd been nervous around Clare before-that first day when I ran over her glasses, the time we almost kissed because of English class, the time we kissed because of English class-but this was something else entirely. We both stood there for a second, awkwardly, staring at each other.

"Clare." I finally managed.

The word felt like an old friend as it left my tongue.

She murmured something that sounded like my name as she threw her arms around me for a hug, almost knocking me over from the force. My arms wrapped around her in return. I still wasn't sure what we were. I wasn't sure where we stood, but at least I knew we were still friends. That was a step in the right direction.

I remained uncertain, but I pressed my lips lightly to her forehead before pulling away from the hug. She grinned up at me, her eyes glowing even bluer than I remembered.

We went back to staring again, but this time it was incalculably less awkward. We stayed silent, that is, until she started to giggle. Profusely. A deep crimson rose up to my cheeks, "It's the pants, isn't it?"

She nodded, "Never did I think I'd see _Eli Goldsworthy_ wearing khaki pants. I mean, they're weird looking on everyone, but on you, they just look so…_khaki_."

She started laughing even harder now, and I couldn't help but join in.

"Why, I've been told many times that khaki is my color, so I really have no idea what you're talking about, Clare."

"Oh, yes, it really brings out the…dork in your polo shirt," She started laughing again.

"Besides the fact that you are wearing the same ridiculous outfit, I really don't appreciate this public lampoon of my appearance today."

"And what, Mr. Goldsworthy, do you intend to do about it? Hm?" She grinned up at me.

"Absolutely nothing. I can swallow my pride, let the fight die down for the sake of people around me, especially the ones I care about."

"You've been practicing."

"Someone wise told me that I don't always handle stuff well. So I'm working on it." I smirked.

"This person sounds very wise, indeed."


	2. The Doors

Clare and I took off toward class. She had math, and I had French, but they were in the same general vicinity. Everything was going rather smoothly-much better than I had anticipated. The conversation stayed light, flirty, but it was nice. Things between us felt fresh again, but to insinuate that things with Clare had ever been dull would be completely ludicrous.

I'd like to say that this is where the story ends, that Clare and I skipped blissfully toward class and lived happily-ever-after, but this is me we're talking about. So no. (Plus, I don't skip. Ever. I also don't frolic or prance, just in case you were wondering. Then again, I was wearing khaki pants that day, so Hell _must've_ frozen over, and I guess there was no telling what kind of shit was going to go down.)

It wasn't long before the comments started up again. You could say a lot of things about the students of Degrassi, but I'll be damned if they weren't persistent. Kids-some I'd never even seen before-passed me in the hallways, yelling things like:

"That's him. _That's_ the asshole who got us into these uniforms!"

"I hope you're happy!"

"Too bad Fitz has shit aim!" (That one stung more than I'd like to admit.)

"I didn't think goth kids were in gangs. I thought cults were more your style."

"I heard you peed. Did you really pee? Cause that's pretty hilarious if you did." (The always tactful Owen, ladies and gentlemen)

I kept a poker face, ignoring every comment thrown at me. Adam was right. They just needed someone to blame. This would all blow over. People would get over it, find someone else to bitch at. It was my first day back. I had to expect some sort of backlash. This was just a phase. I hoped.

And for the record, I did _not_ pee myself.

While all this was going on, Clare stayed by my side, sending dirty looks to the people as they passed. I'd always pegged her for the sweet type, but man, if looks could kill…

"How can people be so cruel? They don't know what happened," She whispered to me.

"Its okay, Clare. It doesn't bother me. Don't let it bother you," I forced a smile, an attempt at reassurance.

The comments continued as we navigated ourselves through the halls toward our next class, but the comments I could handle. The rumors I could handle. The aftermath I could handle. But as we turned the corner down The Hallway, Clare and I both stopped for a moment. I looked over at her before I continued walking, trying to stay calm.

Though there was always this constant air of comfort and familiarity surrounding Clare, the whole scene now felt rather tense. Like when you're speaking to someone whose just suffered a death in the family or a bad breakup, and you're not sure if you should bring it up or talk about everything else you can possibly think of until you're rambling about Morty's faulty transmission and hyperbolas and sea stars and green beans. Kind of like that.

We'd reached The Corner. Neither of us dared glance in its direction. We didn't look for the mark that the knife had left in the wall instead of me, but we knew it was there. And that was enough.

It was enough to trigger the panic I felt as Fitz backed me up against the wall. The pressing on my spine as I tried to keep as much distance between me and knife as possible. The feeling of my muscles giving up, accepting death as my brain realized he wasn't going to stab me. The defeat I conceded as the wall rose triumphantly behind me, the ground growing nearer until I was a heap on the floor.

"Eli?" Clare said quietly.

I realized I had stopped walking at some point and must've looked rather odd standing in the hallway, staring ahead at the doors. Doors that could've solved a lot of problems. But it started before those doors.

It started with a parking space, then a broken hood ornament, a blocked punch, an insincere apology, a kick to the nards, a scheme, a fake ID, a split lip, a false lead, a bullied best friend, another split lip, another kick to the nards, another false lead, an evil deal, a bottle of revenge, another insincere apology, a switched drink cup, a violent upchuck, a pocket knife, a panicked warning and then the doors. It came down to the doors.

Always the doors.

The doors I turned down, deciding confrontation was a better idea. I had ignored the doors, and they hated me for it.

"Eli?" She said again.

"I'm fine." I forced another smile.

Clare pushed open the doors, the ones I should have ran through that night, and I walked through them. A weight fell off my back and rolled into the hallway behind me. It would be back, but I didn't feel like worrying about that right then.

"Let's take the other way tomorrow. Sound good?" I said, trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing. Self-pity was only okay in my head.

Clare nodded and slowed to a stop as we approached her math class.

"Coffee after school?" I asked, a quick and welcome change in subject.

"It's a date." Clare called as she headed into the classroom.


	3. Dying Tortoises and 747's

**UPDATE: Upon reviewing this chapter a few times, I'm really unhappy with it. Hopefully this weekend I will be able to update a forth chapter and fix this one. Not sure if the plot of this chapter will change or if it just needs some retouches. Something just feels off. But I'd like to say thank you to everyone whose left a review, I really appreciate the feedback!  
**

* * *

The day passed with the swift movement of a dying tortoise. When lunch finally came, I nearly sprinted out of my math classroom. The hunger and excitement high school students experience at lunchtime distracted my peers from their insult hurling, giving me some peace as I made my way to the cafeteria with the rest of the mob.

Clare was already at our table toward the back of the cafeteria when I got there.

"Edwards." I said, dropping my backpack down.

"Hey, Eli," She smiled, looking up from her apple and sandwich as I sat down in the seat across from her. Clare and I began speaking about simple things-the weather, cafeteria food, homework, etc. But every conversation with her always felt fast paced, like a rushed exchange of wits. It kept things interesting, and I liked that.

Adam eventually sat down too, making the scene feel even more like old times. Like things before that night. The only thing missing was Alli, but Adam had filled me in on that whole deal. I'd never really had a full conversation with Alli, but she was Clare's best friend. I knew it made Clare sad, and that tended to make me sad.

Everyone else stayed interested in their own lunchtime conversations and I only got maybe four rude comments the whole time, so that was nice.

Lunch passed with the slow mosey of a 747, and before I knew it, I was back in a classroom. But I was in English class, sitting in front of Clare, so I was fine with that. And anyways, I'd kind of missed Miss Dawes. She was an odd one, there was no denying that, but she was good teacher. (The fact she'd pretty much set Clare and I up didn't exactly hurt my view of her either.)

After that class came another. And although the clock swears it only lasted for 50 minutes, I still maintain that I was in History class for at least four hours that day. The bell finally gave its mercy call, and I hurried out to front steps of Degrassi. Clare was waiting for me again, sitting on the steps with a book in hand.

"You ready?" I said as I approached her.

"Yep." She said and gathered her things. We headed to the parking lot where Morty sat.

The traffic block of an entire student body trying to escape school campus made the ride to The Dot take twice as long as it would've had we walked there. But it gave Clare and I even more time to talk.

"I've missed good ol' Morty," Clare said during the ride.

"I'm sure he's missed you too, Clare."

"Oh yeah?" She said, her lips curling into a flirty grin.

I smirked, "Absolutely. Between you and me, I think he's got a little bit of a crush."

Right as the words left my lips, Morty's engine stalled, sputtered and then restarted. I jumped, but Clare just laughed at the coincidence.

When we finally did get to The Dot, I told Clare she could go pick a table, and I'd get the coffee.

"Okay, but I have mone-"

"I've got it."

"Are you sure? Thanks," She said as she headed to the table near the window.

"No problem," I said but I don't think she heard me. You know how in almost every teen movie, there's always that one really awkward guy who spends the duration of the movie sweating and trying too hard to impress the girl of his dreams? I was slowly but surely turning into him, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a weird feeling.

After I finally made my way through the long line, I set our coffees down on the table along with two chocolate chip scones.

"Thank you." Clare said. She picked up the scone and took a big bite, leaning over the plate with an embarrassed expression as pieces crumbled off onto the table.

"So, how does it feel to be back at Degrassi?" She said once she swallowed the first bite.

"Weird. It feels like its been a lot longer than it has."

"I know what you mean. Thanks for calling by the way."

"I trie-hey, _you_ could've called _me_, you know. "

"Touché, touché."

Not thinking, I lifted my coffee cup up to my lips and took a rather large sip. Searing liquid etched its way into my throat. I tried to keep my face stoic. I was not going to react. I was going to keep still until the pain passed. I was not this lame. I did not just burn my mouth on a steaming hot cup of coffee. _Poker face, Eli. Poker face._

Clare raised one eyebrow, "Are you okay?"

"Fine." My voice came out hoarse. I reached for my scone and took a big bite, the frosting cooling off my tongue.

"You sure?" She muttered before taking another bite of her scone.

"So what do you think of Miss Dawes' new assignment?"

"It sounds fun, but I'm not sure what to write about. I mean, she said to 'pick an event and describe it.' That's so broad. Like, an event about what? Not to mention the fact it's an assignment we've done about a hundred times."

"I have no idea what to write about either. That's always the hardest part for me, picking the topic. Once I actually commit to an idea, I'm fine. I can sit down and write and write and write until it's done. But picking the topic, that usually takes up most of the allotted time for the assignment," I said, finishing off the scone but still avoiding the coffee. Not like I'd be able to taste it now anyways.

"Same here," She nodded and then took a small sip of her coffee. _See dumbass, _that's_ how you drink coffee. Wait for it to cool. Small sips. Not that difficult a concept. _

I had two main ideas for my event. At first, I thought the night Julia died might be a good choice, but that was a little too personal even for me. Things with Fitz would be an obvious choice but revealing too much about what actually happened might lead to further disciplinary action against me. I mean, telling your teacher about the time you poisoned a guy with ipecac is generally not a good idea.


End file.
